Hopeless Wanderer
by awesomesausome
Summary: The aftermath of their dash through Manila.


It's my first time trying my hand at these characters, so hopefully I do them justice. I'm hoping to turn this into a multi-chapter fic, but that depends on how it goes over.

Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me.

It's unsurprising that he heals faster than she does.

Partly because of her genetic tinkering, and partly due to her singular focus on his wellbeing for those first hazy, painful days on the ship.

She pays little attention to her own scrapes and cuts and bruises, instead diligently changing his bandages and worrying constantly about everything. She worries about infection, she worries about her rusty triage skills. She worries that she can't trust the fisherman and his son who hustled them onto the boat after she handed over the watch that Aaron pilfered from the Australian at the factory.

She doesn't worry about her own aches, or the way that those first few days pass in a blur of dulled pain and panic.

It's only when he's coherent for the first time since their mad dash across Manila, that she acknowledges that she _hurts_. Her entire body is one giant bruise, and she's so grateful that Aaron had the foresight to place a helmet on her head before placing her on the bike.

She sits next to his bed, her hand wrapped around his, and she worries.

When he sits up, his body partially healed, and somewhat rested, he finds her lying on her cot across the tiny cabin, her eyes closed and her fingers pinching her nose. She's awake. He knows that she's awake, he doesn't think she's slept in days, and her face is drawn and pale.

"You okay, Doc?" He asks and she startles slightly, opening an eye and giving him a small smile.

"You're awake," she says and groans as she sits up. "I should be asking you if you're okay. You were the one who was shot." That may be true, but Aaron knows that she skidded to a stop on the pavement right beside him, and she's been the one sitting next to him, her hand tightly in his, for the past couple of days. She has to be exhausted, and Aaron is about to voice this when she suddenly jumps to her feet, racing past him and out of their cabin to the railing where she gets violently sick over the side of the boat.

Because, of course, on top of everything else, it turns out that she's just not meant for boats.

Aaron is next to her immediately, gathering her hair and placing a cool hand on the back of her neck.

"Guess I haven't found my sea legs yet," she tries to smile, but it comes across as a grimace and Aaron decides makes a series of quick decisions in his head.

First, her weary and hurting body needs some rest.

"Come on, Doc," he places a steadying arm around her waist and leads her back to bed.

"I'm okay," she protests, but if she's being honest, she's overwhelmingly grateful that Aaron is in charge again.

He's gentle with her, making sure she has a bucket handy and telling her to get some sleep, and once her breathing is even, he tears out of their little cabin. He's been out for too long. He needs to figure out a plan, but he's proud of Marta to have gotten them on this boat, and gotten them this far away from Manila with no help from him.

He thinks that bodes well for her chance of survival if they have to split apart. And then he's surprised by the empty ache when he thinks about her not by his side. He's not planning on splitting off, but he's not sure what she wants.

He finds the fisherman, Joseph, and with some rudimentary Tagalog skills, manages to ask him where the boat is currently headed, and if he has any ginger on board. The ginger is a long shot, but it sets up the next question, which becomes where can Aaron get some ginger? He'd hate to get off the boat already, not being far enough away for his liking from those hunting them in Manila, but he also hates to see Marta hanging over the edge of the boat.

Joseph agrees to head to the next fishing village. Aaron sends Mario, Joseph's son, off the boat clutching a list of supplies and a fistful of money, and goes back to check on Marta. She sleeps while they are docked, and she sleeps when they cast off again, and Aaron can't help himself and brushes some hair off her forehead. Her skin is soft and her face looks peaceful, and that empty ache is back.

He shakes her awake gently and hands her the clean clothes Mario bought, and gets her to eat some ginger.

"It'll make you feel better, Doc," he says gently, and she doesn't argue.

It's amazing how much better she feels when she's clean and in new clothes, and doesn't feel an overwhelming urge to get sick.

She pads out to the deck where Aaron is pouring over maps which are spread out in front of him.

"Are we lost?" She asks. She's hoping they are. As much as she has hated this boat for the past few days, now that she feels better and she's clean, she appreciates that they are as far away from the people hunting them as they possibly can be.

She sits with Aaron for a while, soaking in the sun, and appreciating the beautiful water. She slides her hand in his, and he doesn't pull away.

* * *

After a week on the boat, they slip off the boat in the middle of the night, wanting Joseph and his son to know as little as possible about their whereabouts.

Marta's arms and lungs are burning by the time they reach the shore, and Aaron tugs on her hand and leads to her to the dense trees. He lays out their plan as they dry off. In the heat, it's no time at all before they're presentable again.

Aaron picks a hotel featuring a tiny cluster of villas, and they pretend to be a newlywed couple. Aaron finds it's incredibly easy to pretend to be in love with Marta.

Aaron makes Marta wait outside so he can check the villa, and then he ushers her inside and locks the door. She's exhausted, and so happy to be back on solid ground.

"Why don't you go get a shower and I'll go get us some food?" Aaron suggests. "Don't open this door for anyone." Marta nods, and heads towards the bathroom. She stands under the water until her skin is red from the scalding water, and she hears the door click open.

"It's me," Aaron calls, and it feels domestic. Marta turns off the water and wraps one of the fluffy towels around her. Aaron has food set out on the small table, and she's suddenly ravenous.

They eat in comfortable silence, and when they finish Marta realizes there's only one bed.

"I'll sleep on the floor," Aaron says, reading her mind.

"I can't let you do that," she starts to argue, but he shakes his head.

"Don't worry about it, I've slept in worse places," and she knows that he's not just saying that. She's not sure what happened when the agents left her lab; she never wanted to know. But she's sure that it wasn't exactly a vacation. She hands him a pillow and a blanket and she's asleep as soon as she's vertical.

When she wakes up three hours later, screaming, Aaron is next to her, his hand brushing her hair out of her face.

"We're okay, we're safe," he assures her. It's true, for the moment, at least, and he wraps his arms around Marta and pulls her closer to him. When she's calm, he moves away, but her hand darts out and grabs his.

"Don't go," her voice is pleading, and he hesitates only a moment before sliding into the bed next to her and wrapping his arms around her.

She sleeps soundly for the rest of the night.


End file.
